


Back Where We Belong

by PrairieDawn



Series: Extended Meatballverse [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluffy Smut, M/M, Meatballverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26803795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: Spock returns tot he Enterprise after a month spent in rehab getting accustomed to his prosthetic.  Jim welcomes him home.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Extended Meatballverse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1100532
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	Back Where We Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Jim, In Uniform, reading.
> 
> Devolves rapidly into smut. 
> 
> Set about one month after the end of Welcome to 1951, but can stand alone.

Jim sprawled on the narrow couch, one leg tossed haphazardly onto the arm, the other resting on the floor. He was puzzling his way through an article on the most recent iteration of M theory when a brief warning chime sounded, followed by the door sliding open.

Spock stepped into their quarters, looking precise, tall, and perfect in his science blues from collar to shiny black boots. His eyes met Jim’s with an almost-smile, then tracked down to where Jim’s own uniform top had ridden up, exposing a narrow band of skin.

“You’re back early!” Jim said, tossing aside his reading to leap to his feet and walk briskly toward his husband, wrapping his arms around him so their faces were centimeters apart. “It’s good to see you in uniform. You look--like you.”

“Agreed. Gold suits you better than olive drab. I trust there have been no major incidents in my absence?”

Jim chuckled. “None you need to worry about. How’s the leg?”

Spock guided Jim back to the couch. “It functions as well as the original, but I still find myself thinking of it as an object outside of myself. I am told that, in order to use it with maximum efficiency, I must claim it as a part of my own body.”

Jim nodded, pretending at being all business, but stars, he had missed the man. A month of planetary surveys was not sufficient distraction, especially with Bones flaunting his paramour about the ship. Showing her the ropes. “May I see?”

“Of course, Jim. I will warn you, however, it does not precisely resemble that which it replaced.”

“I didn’t expect it would. Come over to the bed.”

Spock responded with an eyebrow.

“I mean, so I can get a good look,” Jim argued. “Nothing untoward about it.”

Spock regarded him for a beat. “Pity.”

“Well, if you’re going to be that way, perhaps I’ll go ahead and claim that new leg of yours. I’m off duty for the day--Bones wanted me available to help you settle in.”

“Unnecessary,” Spock noted. “But fortuitous.” He made his way to the bed, moving as naturally as Jim remembered, no sign of weakness or clumsiness in his stride. Jim followed, waiting for him to shuck his uniform pants and fold them neatly to place on the bedside table. “As you can see, the most immediately apparent difference is the absence of body hair.”

Jim perched beside him. Spock’s abdomen was tensed, perhaps out of concern that Jim would find the cybernetic limb repulsive. He ran a hand gingerly from the crease of Spock’s thigh to his knee. A palm wide elastic band covered the join. “You chose the removable model?”

“Considering our history of encountering artificial intelligences of ill will, I did not want to require the services of Dr. McCoy to safely remove it in the event of an incident.”

Jim stroked the inside of the knee. The skin was soft and resilient, like enough to human skin that its artificial origin might not be immediately apparent. “Does it have full sensation?”

“It does, though I have not fully integrated its character. It feels--strange, to me.”

“Should I stop touching it?”

Spock shook his head. “To the contrary. Tactile input will be helpful in assisting sensory integration.”

“Well, in that case,” Jim said, moving to the bottom of the bed. He slipped off his own shirt and pants. “We ought to match, don’t you think?”

Spock obliged, removing his uniform top and folding it. Jim knelt at the foot of the bed to massage first Spock’s biological foot, working his thumbs into the sole and kneading across the arch. Spock closed his eyes, possibly making note of the sensation for comparison. He moved to the other foot. Under the skin, the foot was a little firmer than Spock’s original foot, the titanium struts not precisely the same size or springiness as bone.

He worked his way up, alternating between Spock’s original leg and the prosthesis, massaging the ankles, the calves, to the backs of Spock’s knees, which earned him the slightest ticklish twitch when he stroked them lightly, the cybernetic one more than the biological one. When he reached the band that helped to hold the prosthetic in place, he kept trailing his hands upward until Spock caught them and, with a show of strength, flipped him onto his back. “When we were parted, you were too fragile to take me. I would have you now.” He ran his fingers down Jim’s chest, laced as it was with new scars.

“I need you inside me,” Jim murmured. “It’s been far too long.” He tugged off his underwear, unable to hide a grin when Spock removed his gracefully and folded them.

Spock lowered himself over him, rocking against his awakening cock and reaching behind him to tease at his opening. The bond expanded between them slowly, unobtrusively, wrapping Jim in warmth without distracting him from the exquisite friction of skin moving on skin. Practiced fingers, slick with spicy scented lubricant, probed and stretched while Jim kneaded Spock’s back, working his way down and tugging him closer so their bodies ground together in a slow, easy rhythm. Spock wore a focused, intent expression, reading Jim’s need in his twitching muscles and hissing gasps. He lifted himself away just long enough to bend Jim’s legs up and line himself up at Jim’s opening, then slid in achingly slowly.

“Please, more,” Jim groaned, bearing down onto the rhythmic pressure on his prostate, his hands clutching at Spock’s hips.

“Patience, k’diwa.” Spock’s slowed and deepened his movements, punctuating them with lips and tongue applied to his neck and collarbone, sucking marks into the skin. He slid a hand between them to stroke Jim's cock and Jim worked his hand in to tease at Spock’s fingers until his eyes drifted closed and he sighed in time with their motions.

Jim’s world narrowed to the pleasure building between them, his own quickening breath and pounding heart, and endearments whispered in Spock’s native tongue. He came with a moan and a shudder. Spock wrapped his arms tighter around him and snapped his hips into Jim’s body a couple more times before his own climax washed over both of them.

He lay with Spock’s weight still pressing him into the bed and traced lazy spirals into the small of his back. Around them, the ship’s systems hummed softly. When he found his voice, he said, “Welcome home.”


End file.
